| [Jan. 15th, 2017|07:20 pm] |
If he focused on nothing but chakra sensing, and poured his own chakra into the effort, Genma could stretch his range to a little over two kilometers, more than twice his ordinary distance. It was harder to control for shadows and blips — predatory animals with big, unfocused chakra were the usual false positives — but with a familiar chakra to feel for it was possible to sift out the misleading signals.
“Namiashi’s approximately 1800 meters northwest, with Kimiko,” Genma said. “And they’ve got company. At that range it’s hard for me to tell, but it felt like they were using combat jutsu.” He hesitated, then added, “Hound’s not with them.”
Without a word, Fukuda scrambled up the bank and tore across the spongy marsh that bordered it, heading towards Raidou and her sister. Ryouma spat a heartfelt, “Fuck,” as he raced after her. It wasn’t orderly, and it wasn’t good mission discipline, but given the circumstances, Genma couldn’t blame either of them. If they weren’t desperate to preserve the secrecy of their identities, he’d have translocated on the spot himself. But Konoha was the only ninja village that had mastered the art of translocation. If they used that jutsu, and any Mist ninja lived to tell the tale, Konoha’s fingerprints would be all over this mission.
He ran, instead, as fast and hard as his legs could pump. His thighs burned and his lungs ached. In seconds he’d caught up to both his current teammates. There wasn’t breath to spare for words, just mutual understanding that Raidou’s and Kimiko’s lives, and possibly Kakashi’s and the baby’s, too, depended on their getting to the fight inhumanly fast, and ending it before word could get back to Kirigakure’s center.
The earth rumbled beneath their feet, and a half second later the concussion hit their ears, as an explosive jutsu slammed into being. There were dim flashes of light in the dense mist ahead. Genma strained to see through it, cursing when he stumbled over hidden sinkholes in the marsh. With every footfall the fog grew thicker, and their pace slower. But the sounds of combat became more distinct.
Genma dropped back to match pace with Fukuda. “Is this mist natural or a jutsu?” he rasped.
“Jutsu,” she panted. “Dispel with Air and Water. Ram, Dog, Ox, Ram.”
Kirigakure’s technique for creating and hiding in a dense fog was a jutsu every rival nation longed to possess. It couldn’t have been easy for Fukuda to give up its secrets. Genma spared a breath for a “Thanks,” and flipped his hands through the seals once, dry, before he shaped chakra and tried it again.
Water and Air were the opposite elements to Genma’s native Fire and Earth, but even a newly-promoted chuunin could shape chakra of any element. It consumed a little more energy, but it was second nature for him to feed his chakra into the right forms.
His first attempt was too weak to do much beyond clearing the mist away from his own face. “Tousaki, did you get that? It’s going to take a lot of chakra to clear this much mist.”
In the gloom all he could see of Ryouma was a shadowy silhouette. Ryouma’s hand lifted for a moment, and he tilted his head back and swallowed. “Chakra I can do.” |
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